


Studio Audience

by serpentinne



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Joker (2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 08:17:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20963390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serpentinne/pseuds/serpentinne
Summary: Joker loves being on live television.  Now, his first guest is the young wife of Gotham's most hated ex-mayor.





	Studio Audience

“Your husband decided to say ‘fuck Gotham.' Well _I _say, ‘fuck your husband.’ Figuratively, of course; he’s just so..._old_.”  
She watched the owner of the voice stroll out of the shadows, coming into view one bright color at a time.  
“So I thought to myself, ‘Joker?',” he playfully put a finger to the side of his garish red lips, “'What would a man like Bernard Elliot treasure the most?’”   
The clown came to a stop in front of the table on which she lay strapped down and gagged. Her hands were bound together and anchored above her head. Her feet were similarly tied at the ankles and secured to the bottom of the rickety table.  
“For most men, that’s easy to determine. But a guy like your husband?” He shook his head as if he pitied her.   
“I'm just so, insatiably curious. Does he choose to save his pretty young trophy wife? _Or_,” he tickled the bottom of one of her feet and briefly stuck out the tip of his tongue. “_Or_, does he simply call it a lost cause? And it’s not about the money!” he exclaimed, shaking his head as if she’d asserted that his plan was some cheap money grab. “Not for me, at least. However, money seems to mean everything to your husband. Let’s see if that's true.”  
He swaggered his way around the side of the table and stooped down toward her face. “Now, if I remove this gag, am I gonna have to hear a bunch of screaming?”  
“No,” she said through the fabric, shaking her head.  
He’d removed a knife from his sleeve, flicked it open, and cut off the gag before she even had time to be startled.  
“Bastard!” she spat.   
Frustratingly, he just smiled back at her.  
“It’s nothing personal,” he assured. “I know I probably came in and shook up your plan. The guy’s old enough to croak any day now and here I am messing with your inheritance. What can I say? I’m a curious cat.”  
He proceeded to walk around the table, checking her bonds for tightness. Thin, long-fingered hands worked their way underneath each cord and gave it a quick tug. She’d expected to feel the bite of rope against her flesh, but it was conspicuously absent. When all she felt was pressure, she looked closer to see that her bonds appeared to made from a smooth, but sturdy nylon material. It looked far more menacing than it felt.  
Satisfied, the Joker took his leave. “I’ll be back in a while, doll. Don’t go anywhere.” He laughed at his own joke as he strode out of the room.  
She took the opportunity to look around the room once more, hoping to figure out where she was being held. Hours ago, she’d been confronted in her bedroom by a pair of men wearing clown masks. One chloroform-soaked rag later, and she woke bound to the table clad only in her silk nightie. The air in the room was so cold against her skin that she could barely stand it.  
The room looked to be a storage closet of sorts, but the assortment of items confused her. Sports equipment, Halloween costumes, random platforms. An idea occurred to her and she squinted to see as far into the high ceiling as should could. There were ropes draped across the rafters. She guessed she was in some sort of theatre. But where?  
She heard the Joker’s dress shoes clicking against the hard floor, returning for who knows what awful reason. If he was going to hold her hostage, she’d hoped that he would simply leave her alone.  
“Mrs. Elliot,” he sang out. A piece of black satin cloth dangled from his hand. “Now, unfortunately,” he said in what was clearly mock apology, “I can’t have you knowing where we’re going, so I’m gonna have to blindfold you. Play nice?”  
There wasn’t really much she could do to resist, besides perhaps bite him when he came closer.  
She huffed. “Fine.”  
He whistled as he worked, making sure the fabric was nice and secure.   
Almost immediately after, she felt cold glass pressed against her lips. She snapped them shut forcefully, jerking her head to the side.  
“_Drink_,” he ordered. “I could inject this, but I’m trying to be _nice_.”  
Praying it wasn’t some type of poison, she allowed him to pour a small amount of liquid through her lips. It left an odd sensation; the liquid was room temperature, but heated as it went down her throat. The feeling was similar to swallowing liquor, but not quite.  
Suddenly, as if a switch had been flipped, she no longer felt cold. Then, her entire body began to tingle, her skin feverish as she felt wetness pool between her legs. She felt like she was a star, radiating massive amounts of heat from her core. A quick frisson of panic hit her.  
_An aphrodisiac_, she realized.  
She’d never felt so needy in her entire life, but she was becoming too distracted to be worried. A single hand slid up between her bound thighs, and she gasped loudly without any forethought. A shrill giggle met her ears as she felt slender fingers spider-walk their way back down toward her feet.  
_Stop enjoying this_, she chastised herself. _ He’s a psychopath and he’s probably going to _kill_ you after he’s done._ For some reason, her self talk backfired; the imminent danger seemed to only increase her drug-fueled desire.  
"Now I’m gonna need you to behave for a minute. Can I get that? Hmmm?”  
“What?” she asked as she squirmed side to side unconsciously. “Behave how?”  
He didn’t answer, but she felt him move his hands to her bound feet. He wound another cord around her right ankle before anchoring it to the side of the table. He then untied her feet where they had been bound together, quickly grabbing her free left ankle in a strong grip. She let out a cry of protest and kicked as he wrapped another cord around the second ankle, moving to the other side of the table to anchor that foot as well. He pulled the rope tighter on this side, then repeated on her right foot. She was left spread wide open, unable to close her legs even an inch. Her ass nearly hung over the bottom edge of the table. She’d never been so embarrassed in her life and was extremely grateful she still wore her panties.  
Just as the thought crossed her mind, she felt his fingertips ghost over the bit of thin cotton fabric. She found herself panting, wiggling, and unable to stop herself despite her disgust.  
“No real point to these anymore.” He worked his finger underneath the elastic waistband and gave it a snap. “You’re _soaked_. They’re practically transparent.” She’d have been mortified if she wasn’t so distracted.   
He stooped down and she felt him blow a stream of air across the wet fabric. She was barely able to hold back her sounds, and the urge to strain upward toward the source of light friction was nearly irresistible.  
_I’m not going to beg this creep to touch me,_ she promised herself. _It’s just whatever he fed me._  
She pursed her lips tightly, preventing the panting breaths trying to fight their way through. If she were honest with herself, she’d admit that she wasn’t sure how long she could keep this up.  
Suddenly, the table began to move and she realized why it had been so rickety - it was on wheels. She was being wheeled out of the room, still tied open in the same lewd position. While she hoped that it was just her and Joker in the theatre, she highly doubted they were alone. The two men who had abducted her were probably milling about somewhere.  
“Alright, sweetheart,” the Joker’s reedy voice boomed, “Iiiiit’s showtime!” he shouted, ripping off the blindfold with a flourish, arms held wide.   
Blinking her eyes, she realized that she’d been correct that they were in a theatre. The Joker stood in her line of sight, the two of them the only occupants of a rather small stage. The seats in front of them were vacant, save for the first few rows. The rows were occupied by about two dozen men, all unkempt and rough looking; clearly, these were the Joker’s goons. The clown put a finger to his lips, shushing everyone in the audience.  
“Shhhh. Show’s about to start boys!” he announced, pushing up the sleeves of his red suit jacket to reveal sinewy lower arms.  
"Tonight, live in front of a studio audience, we have the wife of Bernard Elliot, former mayor of Gotham.”  
The audience boo-ed. Her husband was not a popular man. There had been allegations of embezzling millions from the city, but there was never enough proof to prosecute. He was, technically, innocent.   
“Finally, a guy who can get it up,” he laughed, the crowd snickering along.   
It _had_ been quite some time since she and her husband had been intimate in the traditional sense, due to his advanced age. Still, she’d never been unfaithful, and she did have genuine feelings for Bernard. Of course she knew what people thought of her - a soulless gold digger. She’d worked so hard to prove them wrong and, yet, here she was, practically aching to be touched by this freak.   
_It’s just been a while, that’s all_, she reassured herself. That, combined with _whatever_ it was coursing through her body, meant that even the clown’s touch wasn’t exactly repulsive. Most of her distaste, at the moment, came from the ridiculous amount of exposure. He could've just held her legs open, couldn't he?  
The man in question turned away from the small crowd, approaching the table slowly and deliberately. Nearly hyperventilating in anticipation, she focused on his hands as they slid along the inside of her thighs once again. She’d always had a thing for mens’ hands, and the Joker’s were actually quite attractive. Prominent knuckles accentuated the lean digits, veins bulging slightly near the wrists. She held her breath as those hands reached up and made a clean tear through her panties, discarding them to the side.  
Finally, he reached out and flicked her clit with his thumb. Just once. She saw stars and groaned, unable to stop herself. Before she could blink, his mouth was on her, hungrily lapping at her sex like a crazed beast.   
Within moments she felt her pussy quiver, crying out as an orgasm stole all her senses and she practically gushed. As she came down, she didn’t feel as satisfied as she'd expected, her pussy clenching uselessly around nothing.  
The burning feeling beneath her skin subsided and she felt her mind slowly clearing. The ecstatic need was gone, but the desire remained; she still wanted his hands on her. She wanted them on every inch of her at once. Slowly, the sense of danger creeped back in.  
“Ah,” he said as he looked up from between her legs, his mouth soaked. He wiped away the wetness on the back of his hand, a red smear of paint coming off with it. “I see it’s time for another tipple.”  
He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small glass vial filled with purple liquid.  
“I’m not drinking that,” she said firmly. “Do what you’re gonna do, but I’m not taking more of...whatever that is.”  
Joker gave her another pitying smile, as if she was dim. He then leaned forward to hover over her body, whispering close to her ear so the henchman wouldn’t hear.  
“Listen,” he started. She shivered as his warm breath entered her ear. She could smell a faint hint of her juices on his breath.  
He continued, “Let’s make a deal. You take this second dose and it’s just you and I playing house. If you refuse, then the whole deal gets scrapped and I give you my guys as their new toy. And some of these guys?” he raised his painted eyebrows and nodded his head toward the crowd, “They’re _real_ creeps. No promises on how long your pretty face would last. Ya follow me?”  
She followed, in the sense that she knew that she definitely wasn’t getting out of this. She decided to go with the devil she knew, rather than dozens of devils she didn’t.  
_Besides_, she thought, not without a bit of guilt, _he wasn’t _so_ bad. _He seemed to be nicely built, from what she felt through his suit, and the angles of his painted face might’ve even been handsome beneath the makeup.  
“Okay,” she whispered back, earning a lick across her ear that made her jump.  
“Gooood,” he cooed, grinning widely as he moved his body off of hers. He brought the vial to her lips and she gulped it down. It tasted slightly sweeter than the last dose and - oh no.  
Her very being felt like it was on fire, her skin feeling as if it might actually melt if she wasn’t _touched right now_. Joker stood with his head cocked to the side, watching her reaction with delight.  
“Oh, _God_,” she moaned, barely recognizing her own voice. She felt her mind melting away, leaving her a mindless slave to her body.  
“Ha! Not quite,” the clown winked down at her and held the empty vial just above his tongue, a single leftover drop landing upon it. He slurped it up and shook his head back and forth violently, like a dog shaking its jowls. “Now let’s have some _real_ fun.”  
She lifted her head up to watch entranced as he undid his belt buckle and began to slowly draw down his zipper. He freed his straining erection from its confines and her eyes grew wide. He was on the upper end of the scale, size-wise, but not extraordinarily big. Still, to her lust-addled mind, it looked enormous.  
He took himself in hand and began to stroke himself languidly, watching her reaction as she gritted her teeth in frustration. She knew he was playing a mind game. He probably wanted to see her beg, but she'd promised herself she'd retain some dignity. Of course, that was before he'd given her that second dose.  
"What's that song I heard on the radio the other day?" He addressed his followers, slowing the movement of his hand. "The new one," he searched mentally as he improvised the tune.  
"Doctor Feelgood!" one of the guys yelled out.  
"Yeah! Yeah, that's it. I'm Doc-tor Feelgood baby -" he began to laugh, but was cut short.  
"- Please!" she shouted over him, cutting through his monologue of bullshit. She'd had enough.  
He raised one painted brow and smiled evilly.  
"Please _what_?" He guided his cock toward her entrance, rubbing the head back and forth across her clit.  
She sat silent for a moment, practically hyperventilating.  
"Please just fuck me already," she groaned, finally giving up all self control. She was just a mindless shell of herself at this point. Distantly, she wondered if this dose of aphrodisiac would wear off at the same rate as the first. Somehow, she didn’t think it would.  
He reached up with his free hand to slap his forehead with his palm.  
"Oh! Well why didn't you just _say_ so?"  
He looked past where she lay on the table, speaking over her shoulder and asked, "We rolling Johnny?"  
Confused, she jerked her head back to see a man standing there with a mounted camera.  
"Been rolling, boss," Johnny answered. "You ready?"  
"Wait!" she cried out. "So, what? You’re gonna tape this and send it to my husband? Not very inventive."  
The Joker threw his head back and laughed before looking her straight in the eyes.  
"Nononono honey. We're about to go _live_."  
It took a second for that to register through the haze in which she was floating.  
"What?! No!" she screamed. It was one thing for her husband to see her like this. It was completely another for the entire city to watch this happen.  
The camera man moved to the side of the table to get a better view of the action.  
"Aw, c'mon now. Where’s your enthusiasm?" With that, he finally entered her, burying himself to the hilt in one thrust. She was so wet that there was little resistance.   
He started fucking her at a frenzied pace, and her mind went blank once again. All she could think about was how wrong this was. Were they really playing this live on TV? Joker had been known to hijack television signals in the past, so it was very plausible. Still, she couldn’t help but love every second of him rocking in and out of her. She began jerking her hips upward to meet his thrusts, urging him deeper inside of her. He laughed hysterically at her eagerness.  
“Yeah, baby, that's the spirit. What would your old man say if he saw you like this, hm? Let’s find out.”  
The man working the camera returned to his previous position behind her head, opposite the table from his boss. Joker slowed the serpentine movement of his hips, giving her just enough stimulation to keep her from going completely mad. She squirmed and let out a sound of protest that went unnoticed. Instead, he looked up into the camera while continuing to fuck into her.  
“_Hi_ Bernard. I know this is probably a little awkward, but I'm really in need of a favor. See, I'm gonna need you to pay back - Oo! Shit,” he cussed, cutting himself off when she squeezed around him, silently urging him to quicken his pace. He continued slowly, regaining his concentration.  
“...to pay back what you took from the people of Gotham. Now, I know you probably think this is about _money_ but it's not. It's about which you love more - your fortune you took at the expense of the city, or your pretty young wife. Look at the camera sweetie,” he reached up and bopped the bottom of her chin gently with his knuckle, tipping her chin upward to look into the camera.  
“5 million for your whore wife. Or I keep her. Course, she might not object,” he punctuated his statement with a hard thrust of his hips that hit directly against her G spot, eliciting a shriek of pleasant surprise. The Joker laughed like a maniac.   
“Enjoy the rest of the show Mayor Elliot.”

Six months later, the Joker was handed a note by one of the few associates with which he had an amicable relationship. He was passing it along, he said, for an old friend of his. The envelope reeked of expensive perfume and was sealed with a lipstick kiss.  
_Next time you're in Arkham, be sure to check the side doors. You might just find one propped open._


End file.
